Parry, Thrust, Riposte
by Katra21
Summary: Another head-canon drabble. This is the story of how Marianne first met Roland, otherwise how Roland began to worm his way into Marianne's life.


**Parry, Thrust, Riposte**

Courage, Justice, Mercy, Generosity, Integrity, Nobility, and Hope, the knightly virtues weren't that far from Marianne had to be. As the princess and heir she was meant to be a beacon, a symbol of everything that her people could be, and everything they couldn't be. She had to be strong for them, brave for them, righteous for them. If her people were threatened she had to be the voice of reason no matter how she personally felt about the issue. So she took to spending her free afternoons watching the royal guards train.

Or at least that was why she started.

It wasn't long until the swordplay enamoured her more than the discipline. The combination of strength and grace made her heart flutter. It was like dancing with danger. No one but her personal attendants knew how she mimed that dance alone in her room. Parry, thrust, riposte, over and over.

* * *

If Roland was one thing, he was confident, perhaps it was confidence leaning towards vanity, but in swordplay as well as many areas in life, confidence was key. Confidence alone could make a weak-willed opponent question their next move, even if their skill far outstipped his.

If Roland was two things then he was confident and ambitious. Ambition made him stand out in ways that his confidence didn't. He had gotten through basic training in record time. He had tackled every obstacle mercilessly until it crumbled before him. Someday, very soon, his guard duties would move him closer to his goals. He would be captain of the guard. He would be king. He would raze Dark Forest to the ground and stand above it all.

If Roland was three things, he was confident, ambitious, and cunning. If he broadcast his ambitions he would have been squashed. Rebelling against the crown would have been a hard fight. The king was loved, his daughters were adored. But the elder daughter, Princess Marianne liked to watch the guards in the practice yard. Roland made certain that he would stand out.

Roland may have been lacking in the patience department. Princess Marianne was not an obstacle that fell easily. If she was the type to crush on the guards she watched she certainly didn't show it. She showed no interest in him or anyone else when they weren't training. At public affairs she was always poised, always collected, practically unapproachable.

But Roland had a plan to trip her up, literally.

* * *

Marianne always had her nose in a book when she left her lessons. Whatever the subject she knew that she had to lock the knowledge gained firmly in her mind.

Then she tripped.

Time slowed.

Her book flew out of her grip.

The stonework came up fast.

She hit the floor.

"Princess!" she heard several cry in shock.

"Princess, are you alright?" Someone touched her shoulder.

Marianne flinched, and flushed. She must look terribly undignified. She didn't know what to do with her hands. Then he took her hands. Marianne looked up into golden brown eyes. "I'm… I'm… okay," she stumbled over her words.

"Who would've thought that the stoic older princess was really the clumsy ditzy type," the guard said lightly. He laughed, and backed away, twirling the forelock of his golden hair. "I'm glad I got to see this side of you. You're much cuter this way."

Marianne's mouth lolled. People didn't call her cute. They called her little sister Dawn cute. She was regal, reserved, serious.

"Your books, Princess," one of the guards offered.

"Yes, thank you," Marianne tilted her chin up and she was back to her old self.

But she found her eyes lingered on that blond guard while she watched the training, even when he wasn't practicing himself. And sometimes, when he wasn't practicing, he would glance up at her, and she could see that his smile would get a little wider.

* * *

Roland hated the waiting. He saw how her attention lingered on him. And when he glanced her way her eyelashes would flutter and a faint blush would color her cheeks. When she walked away from her lessons she always looked up from her books for a second, always glancing at him. He hoped it was only a matter of time before she made an opportunity for him, because he couldn't trip her a second time.

The day came. Roland knew something was up because when she left her lesson she was glancing at him every few seconds. Then she tripped. Or rather, she pretended to trip. Directly in front of him. Roland knew an open invitation when he saw it.


End file.
